Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 18
Chapters: 18/?
Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit
Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader
Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters.
Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read.
Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.
Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.
Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics
Tagging: @number-0-iz, @emarich7, @jaziona92. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know! I noticed that Tumblr sometimes won't let me tag everyone for some unknown reason, so if it comes to that I can at least send you a message to notify you.
You can also read this on AO3 if you feel more comfortable!
While on one hand your work in Cape Kennedy was progressing without any hiccup, the situation with the Vortex was beginning to escalate and deteriorate at a very alarming rate.
But there was only so much that you, as a mere mortal, could do to assist.
The Corinthian lounged in his chair, his unsettlingly perfect smile unwavering as he examined you through his disconcerting, mirrored sunglasses. You stayed as motionless as a still lake, frozen and unflinching, with your heart pounding intensely in your chest.
Even though fear engulfed you and the Nightmare instilled a chilling sense of dread, you were determined not to present yourself as vulnerable or an easy prey.
"Well, look who we have here," he remarked, settling comfortably and flashing his trademark grin. "Do you remember me?”
"Naturally," you replied, your tone distant and firm. "Thanks for the drink, but I must admit I'm not really into the Black Russian Cocktail.”
He let out a chuckle, seemingly entertained by your biting response. "Ah, such a shame. I thought it might be to your taste,” he said, his voice silky, laced with feigned charm. "But I assure you, I'm not just here to buy you a drink. In fact, I'm more interested in...conversation.”
A shiver coursed down your spine, but you held your stance, your hand reaching for the Moonstone necklace as a form of support. "What do you want, Corinthian?" you questioned, managing to keep your voice steady despite the terror simmering within you.
His grin broadened at the mention of his name. "Straight to the point. I like that.”
He leaned slightly forward, cautious not to breach the invisible protective barrier that the necklace symbolized. "I just happened to be in the area and saw a familiar face. It's always nice to catch up with old acquaintances.”
You narrowed your eyes, not letting his nonchalant demeanor fool you. "Acquaintances? Is that what we are now? Because the last time we met, I didn't even know your name.”
The Corinthian shrugged, pretending indifference. "Names are overrated. It's what lies beneath that's truly interesting. Speaking of which,” His gaze shifted to the pendant in your hand. "That's a beautiful Dreamstone you're wearing there.”
As an entity crafted by Morpheus himself, you speculated it would be easy for him to sense his master's essence residing in the stone. The crystal had not yet shone any light, but it likely wouldn't trigger as long as a secure distance was maintained.
Given his aim to stay under the radar, it was certainly unthinkable to do anything that might catch Morpheus' attention.
Despite this, you were not ready to lower your defenses. You gripped the pendant tighter, your knuckles whitening, until you were overpowered by a terrible uncertainty.
The pendant housed Morpheus' energy, the identical one he employed to craft his subjects. All of them, Dreams and Nightmares alike, including the Corinthian. Would it even function against that creature, or was it destined to stay inactive in the presence of its creator's power?
However, understanding Morpheus as you did, you figured that he wouldn't leave anything to chance.
"You stay away from me," you warned, your voice low but fervent.
He lifted his hands in a mocking gesture of surrender. "Easy there. I'm not looking for trouble. Just a friendly chat. After all, it's not every day you run into someone who's so... special."
His tone bordered on teasing, but underneath it lurked a layer of menace.
You shot him a stern look, your heart maintaining its rapid pace. "Why are you really here?”
The Corinthian's smile remained, but a spark of irritation flickered across his face. "Let's just say I'm here on business. But you, my dear, seem to have stumbled into something far bigger than you realize. I wonder...do you even know what you're protecting yourself from?”
You offered no response, your silence serving as a testament to your fear and resolve.
The Corinthian reclined again, his expression contemplative. "You know, the Dreaming is a fascinating place. Full of wonders and horrors alike. It's a shame, really, that some of us can't ever truly escape it.”
Your fingers traced the contours of the Moonstone, deriving fortitude from Morpheus' gift.
You looked intently at him, your jaw set rigidly. "You were meant to stay. The Waking World is not the place for you.”
The Corinthian chuckled with a predatory glint that seemed to emerge on the dark lenses. “Ah, but the Waking World is so much more entertaining. So many unsuspecting souls, so many dreams to twist and shatter. The Dreaming can be quite confining, don’t you think?”
"You're playing a dangerous game here. You know that sooner or later he's going to find you, right?”
He laughed once more, a sound lacking any semblance of mirth. "Oh, but I have plans, my dear. Grand plans. And they don't include being sent back to the Dreaming like a misbehaving pet.”
His presence was deeply disturbing, stirring an urge in you to eradicate him instantly. It would be so easy; you had the means to inform Morpheus, to signal him that his nightmare had reappeared before your eyes. Yet, despite your impulse to act, you were held back by the bustling public scene, brimming with humans immersed in their own lives.
“Dreams are fragile things. And even the most powerful can crumble under the right pressure.”
You swallowed hard. "Be that as it may, you can't hide from your master forever.”
"That won't be necessary.”
At that moment, the suspicion began to creep into your mind that he was not only aware of the forming Vortex, but also harbored intentions of exploiting Rose for his own gain. Perhaps that could provide an explanation for the persistent feeling in your gut.
Alternatively, it could be your paranoia casting a cloud over your perception, and his presence in Cape Kennedy might not be related to the girl at all. However, his hints towards a grandiose scheme were undeniable, and whatever he was plotting, it was improbable that it would result in anything remotely beneficial.
Your phone began to vibrate and ring on the table, breaking the tense silence yet escalating your alertness. Andrew's name lit up on the screen, and despite your strong desire to extricate yourself from that situation, your body didn’t budge.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?”
Your eyes blazed with defiance. "Just so we’re clear, I won't let you harm anyone. Especially not him.”
It was a daring move on your part. What could a mere mortal such as yourself, lacking any supernatural abilities and unaware of this Nightmare's true potential, realistically hope to achieve against such monster?
“We’ll see about that.”
The Corinthian maintained his malevolent smirk, as he rose from his chair and smoothed out his jacket. The ringing of your phone ceased, the screen going dark. "Well, it's been delightful catching up, but I must be going. Places to be, people to see, dreams to corrupt. You know how it is.”
He made a motion to leave, but then halted, casting a glance over his shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing. Give my regards to Dream. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again very soon.”
Your blood ran cold as he continued speaking, gradually advancing towards the door.
“Enjoy your stay in Cape Kennedy, sweetheart. And remember, nightmares can follow you anywhere.”
With that, the Corinthian vanished into the bustle of the street, leaving you in solitude at the bar, your thoughts spiraling out of control.
You exhaled a prolonged, trembling breath of relief as soon as you found yourself alone at the table, your fingers finally releasing their grip on the Dreamstone. The fact that he left you entirely untouched, without even attempting to lay a finger on you, could signify a multitude of possibilities. Was he planning to toy with you a bit longer before erasing your existence from this world? Did he have intentions of annihilating the entire human race, you included, all in one sweep?
When your phone rang again, you jumped in your seat. You allowed the call to continue for a few more seconds, swallowing down your anxiety and only answering it when you were certain you could muster up your voice.
"Andrew, hi.”
"Oh, Y/N, you answered! I'm nearly there.”
"Yeah, I inadvertently left my phone on silent," you feigned. "I'm on my way.”
"Oh hey, is everything alright? You sound strange...”
Apparently, you weren't very good at concealing it.
"I'm fine! Just a bit tired, it seems the jet lag is really taking a toll on me now.”
Fortunately, Andrew seemed to accept your excuse. "Ah yes, of course! Sorry for having you run around like this.”
You swiftly settled the bill for your drink, leaving the undesirable Black Russian Cocktail abandoned on the table. "No need to apologize, I came here specifically for this.”
"Yeah, but I'm not in any hurry at the moment. So if you need to take things slower, just let me know, okay?”
You smiled, exiting the bar and crossing the street, breathing in the refreshing salty air. "Of course, but don't worry!”
"Right. I've just arrived. Are you nearby?”
"Yes, literally five minutes away.”
"Great! I'll hang up now, see you in a moment!”
As you slipped your phone back into your bag, you were taken by a sudden wave of calm and contentment, simply from Andrew's display of kindness and concern. Given the extremely negative energy you had absorbed from the Corinthian, the positivity radiating from your newly-acquired friend served to completely dispel the Nightmare's impact on you.
Nevertheless, the situation was not to be underestimated. Even though Morpheus might have been unaware, the possibility of his own creation plotting to obliterate not just the Dreaming but also the Waking World was a grave matter. It was vital that he be apprised of the looming threats he was up against.
Unfortunately, given his perpetual sense of duty, there was a fear that this revelation might exacerbate his self-blame. The notion of you coming across the Corinthian in London had already caused him significant distress, to the extent that you were fearful of his reaction to finding out that the Nightmare had, in essence, posed an indirect threat to you.
No, it was preferable to keep this information to yourself for the time being. Having a line of communication with the King of Dreams, you had the capability to reach out and converse with him if the need arose. Thus, as you spotted Andrew awaiting you on the most picturesque beach of Cape Kennedy, you made a silent pledge to yourself to monitor Rose as closely as possible, ensuring that no harm would befall the girl and, by extension, all of you.
Andrew couldn't have come up with a better idea. He intended for you to experience the magnificence of Cape Kennedy up close, guiding you on one of the most serene strolls you'd ever taken in your life. The melody of the sea was enchanting, the sky was unblemished, and the ocean was astoundingly beautiful. Owing to the Beach Land that was a frequent destination in your dreams, you had cultivated a deep fondness for the ocean.
Once again, he transported you back to his quarters for a thorough work assessment and outline. Charlotte was even more ebullient than the previous day, welcoming you with a warm hug and presenting another tray of fresh beverages and snacks, which you gladly accepted. Andrew had already given his approval to your drafts and the requested modifications, so technically, a large part of your job was already completed. What Andrew sought from you now was counsel on the overall presentations, along with guidance regarding the advertising strategy.
You were so immersed in the task at hand, surrounded by stacks of papers as you both scribbled notes and laid out plans on your laptops, that time slipped away unnoticed. Dinner had come and gone in what felt like an instant, the sky transitioning from daylight to a dark canvas speckled with twinkling stars amidst your ongoing conversations.
As the day came to a close, Andrew drove you back to Hal's B&B, suggesting you get some rest before the next briefing. A tranquil night was upon you, underscored by the calming whispers of rustling leaves and cricket melodies.
Yet, you couldn't shake off the feeling that something could emerge from the shadows unexpectedly at any moment.
Your footsteps reverberated along the pathway leading to the front door. As you pushed it open, the sound of Hal's voice drifted from nearby.
“There’s not much to do in Cape Kennedy after dark. Or during the day for that matter.”
You stopped in your tracks. His voice resonated with an unmistakable undertone of exhaustion and defeat.
“That’s kinda what I like about it,” Rose retorted in response. “I was thinking, maybe I should move back.”
“Why? To do what?”
The tone of Hal's inquiry made his disapproval abundantly clear.
“I don’t know. Before my mom died, I was gonna go to grad school… and try to become a writer.”
Nonetheless, Rose appeared unperturbed and relaxed, exuding an air of tranquility.
“But maybe it’s like you and New York.”
“God. I hope not.”
“No, I mean, your life is here,” she corrected. “You have this house, people who love you. You’ve got Dolly.”
You generally refrained from eavesdropping, but you felt that interrupting at that juncture would be incredibly inappropriate. Thus, you remained standing outside, right before the slightly open door.
“Rose, do you think I wanna be here? Cleaning after Barbie and Ken? Don’t get me wrong, I love them, they’re great. But if Broadway called tomorrow, I would sell this fucking house.”
The palpable sorrow in his voice touched a nerve. You had experienced similar sentiments once, longing to discard everything you had in pursuit of the fulfilling life you aspired to lead.
“And I would never think about any of these people ever again.”
There was a pause, followed by Hal's voice resuming once again.
“Go to grad school, write a novel… about me, but do it now while I’m still cute enough to play myself in the movie.”
Rose's soft chuckle was barely audible, but the joy it conveyed was unmistakable. It mirrored the enjoyment you felt, prompting a quiet smile to spread across your face.
“’Cause this, was never my dream.”
Soon after, Rose withdrew to the room she shared with Lyta to turn in for the night. Hal continued to clean up the area, the sound of glasses clinking against each other echoing throughout the room. Truth be told, you were keen to have a one-on-one chat with the girl as you hadn't yet gotten a proper chance to explain your encounter. But in that moment, you felt an overwhelming urge to give Hal some words of support, a growing desire in your heart that you simply couldn't overlook.
At last, you walked inside, gently closing the door behind you and advancing towards Hal, who was gathering the last vestiges of the drinks the others had left behind. Catching sight of you, he performed a graceful twirl and greeted you with a smile as radiant as the sun.
"Hi! I haven’t seen you all day. Has your work with Andrew been keeping you on your toes?”
"Somewhat, but things are progressing quite well," you responded.
"Oh, I'm certain. With your talent and his qualities, I can only anticipate the best.”
Shadowing his movements, you nervously bit your lower lip. "Speaking of talent, I couldn't help but overhear your exchange with Rose.”
Hal halted, clutching the empty tray in his hands. "Well, it was just, you know, something I needed to get out of my chest.”
You nodded in understanding. "We need that sometimes. But allow me to remind you that you already have everything you need within your grasp.”
He let out a sigh. "If only, my dear.”
"No, I'm serious. Maybe I don't have the right to say this, given we just met yesterday. And I understand this might sound like empty encouragement from someone who doesn't fully get your struggle. But you are so much more than this life you're discontented with.”
He had already talked about his aspirations with you - his dream to take center stage in Broadway's grandest shows, to become a celebrated star whose name would be remembered by all. Observing how his present life was constricting him, you felt an irresistible need to emulate your mother and extend as much consolation as you could.
You were no deity, no monarch of dreams. But he was a reflection of your past self and everything that persona embodied. Though you understood you were not your mother, you were at least confident in knowing the right words to express.
Hal's shoulders sagged and the new smile he offered was imbued with sadness and resignation. "Y/N, you're so kind to say that. But do you really think anyone would consider a Drag like me?”
"Hal, I witnessed your performance last night. Your voice is spectacular, and your stage presence was so mesmerizing that I couldn’t even blink while watching you.”
"Thanks, darling, But that won't exactly open the doors to Broadway for me.”
You shook your head in disagreement. "You don’t know that.”
He persisted in his skepticism, his countenance marked by desolation, as he found it impossible to conceive a more promising future for himself. You couldn't simply stand by and accept his surrender to circumstances.
“I mean, look at me. I am a living testament to how a life that once felt riddled with misery can transform into everything you've ever dreamed of.”
"Yes, and I love having you here right now. But I'm not like you, Y/N. All I can do is wait and hope that this endless cycle will take a different direction. Rather sooner than later.”
His pessimism didn't surprise you. After all, there was a time when you too were unwilling to believe in the possibility of betterment, bracing for nothing but disaster despite your father's and Hob's efforts to help you see things from a different angle.
"Or, you could cultivate this talent of yours and follow your dreams. Don't let it go to waste, you truly deserve to shine,” you said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.
At that moment, something unusual occurred. A warmth emanated from your heart, appearing to radiate along his sleeve. Hal's face transitioned into one filled with wonder and surprise, staring at you as if he'd just seen a miracle unfold right before his eyes.
"Hal, you have your own individuality that defines who you are now, and also who you can become if you don’t give up.”
This time, he seemed to contemplate it, diverting his gaze and pursing his lips. "You do have a unique flair for words, don't you?” he noted, breaking into another bright smile and letting out a profound sigh.
He wasn't the first to compliment your communication skills, which evidently played a significant role in your professional success.
Still, you couldn't help but feel that it wasn't merely a perk you had acquired, but more so a family trait that you had inherited from birth.
"I try, at least.”
"Keep doing that, and you'll go really far in life.”
You chuckled, releasing him and slipping off your jacket. Somehow, as soon as you moved away, it felt like the enchantment had shattered, returning the atmosphere to its prior, ordinary state.
“Just give it some thought,” you suggested.
"Oh, I will. Maybe a good dream will stir some inspiration tonight.”
As you approached the stairs, gradually ascending the first few steps, you flashed a playful yet sincere wink in his direction. "Dreams have the power to do just that.”
If only he, or anyone else for that matter, could comprehend the depth of that truth. If only they could marvel at the wonders that the King of Dreams could bestow upon each one of them, had they dared to ask.
How had the mortal realm managed to endure an entire century devoid of the Dreaming? How had you navigated through countless silent, barren, desolate nights?
However, the elements within the dream realm could be as breathtaking as they were daunting. There were beings as mighty as the Corinthian, who had transformed what was meant to merely mirror humanity's deepest fears into a tangible nightmare in the Waking World.
Upon finding the plush comfort of your bed, you attempted to expunge all traces of those convoluted emotions from your gut. As you drifted off to sleep, you could only wish to find yourself enveloped by the dream figures you held so dear, all except Morpheus who, much to your chagrin, was preoccupied with the quest to locate his Dream and Nightmares.
One of which was tremendously close to all of you in the mortal realm.
As you leisurely strolled along the beach, your father's hand in yours, your younger self dipped her toes into the moist sand along the shoreline. You felt incredibly small and unburdened, reminiscent of the times you used to visit the seaside many years ago. The beach was tranquil, with no one else in sight, just you and your father gathering exquisite seashells and breathing in the refreshing air.
"Be careful there," he teased. "Or else you'll run out of space in that bucket.”
"I can't help myself," you replied cheerfully. "There are so many seashells, I want to collect them all.”
"This really is the best place in the world, innit?”
You nodded emphatically. "Of course it is, we're in the Dreaming.”
It was fascinating how a part of you maintained awareness, while another part seemed to have been transported back to the innocence and simplicity of your childhood.
"Beautiful. Simply beautiful," he observed.
The day was idyllic, reflecting the splendor of the dreamworld. You watched your small fingers digging into the damp sand, extracting more seashells and stones, each one glittering under the sun like a precious jewel.
But it was not reality, it was merely an illusion, a façade on the verge of shattering before your eyes.
Suddenly, a distant rumbling echoed in the sky, a sound that wasn't a novel occurrence.
"What was that?”
Your father appeared completely unconcerned, disregarding the approaching roar entirely. "Mh? What are you referring to, darling?”
“That sound.”
"What sound? All I can hear is the ocean.”
You stopped, causing your father to pause his strides as well. With the bucket's handle clenched tightly in your small fist, you focused on discerning the subtle noises in your surroundings.
Indeed, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, leading you to conclude that what you had heard was merely conjured by your imagination.
Until a colossal fissure, which jolted the entire landscape, emerged in the sand, a hair's breadth away from your father's feet.
"Dad!" You cried out. "We need to get away from here, now!”
“Mh? Whatever do you mean?”
With a trembling index finger, you pointed towards the ominous crack. Despite your frantic warning, he continued to smile - a wide, almost terrifying grin that you had never seen before.
You released his hand, the bucket falling to the ground. "You're not real. None of this is. It's all just a dream,” you repeated to yourself.
"Is that so? Well, I suppose I can't let you leave now.”
What on earth?!
You started to retreat, but he made no move to follow. Your dream father stood there, statue-like, tilting his head and staring at you with an utterly blank expression. You could feel the chaos mounting in you, the urgency to flee and awaken. The crack continued its course, spreading around your father like tree roots.
Paralyzed, you could only watch the horrifying scene unfold in front of you. The sky turned ominously dark and the ocean receded, only to rise again and form a gigantic wave. It towered over you, threatening to crash down imminently.
And then, a hand clamped down onto your shoulder, compelling you to pivot around. Your face, no longer that of a child, was reflected in the Corinthian's round black lenses.
“Give my regards to Dream. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again v͔̠ͬ͝e͕̰̥̦̐ͥͪ̇̓͊ͭ͊ͧ̏̕͢r̵̡͕͕̮͉͙̯̅̇̄ͣ̊̑y̲̼͋͐̓ͅ s̱̭͔̪̩̳̜̹͕̹̩͙̙̪̗̤ͮ̊ͥ̏ͮ͋́͗ͧ̐̽͘͜͟͝͠ͅǫ̷̷̛̙̫̞̳̮͆̒͐̐ͯ͛͡ǫ̙ṇ̵̆ͬ̓͘_̛̬̣̻͙̐̅ͥ̓ͪ̃_̵̶̝̣̝̈̆ͣ̍̉.”
His voice echoed all around you, reverberating in your ears and becoming distorted. The tidal wave crashed, engulfing everything in its path and wiping it all away. You were caught in a maelstrom, spinning uncontrollably, gasping for breath in the underwater whirlwind.
Awakening with a jolt, you kicked off the covers and sat bolt upright, pressing your back against the pillow. Panting, anxious and disoriented, you looked around to anchor yourself and dispel the remnants of your dream hung in the air, creating hypnagogic illusions of shadowy figures and wavering walls. It took a moment of deep, calming breaths and a run of your fingers through your tousled hair to bring your racing heart back to its normal rhythm.
Morpheus was absent, and the idea of slipping back into slumber was out of the question for now. You sprang to your feet, slipped into your cozy slippers, and draped a long open cardigan over your pajamas. A hot cup of tea, you thought, might just be the remedy to calm your frazzled nerves and restore your sense of lucidity.
Making an effort to keep the noise low, you stepped out of your room and gingerly made your way down the dimly lit hallway. You arrived at the main staircase, cautiously descending, with one hand instinctively placed on your chest where the feeling of water filling your lungs persisted.
Distractedly, you moved forward, and the light turned on in the dining room immediatly piqued your curiosity. The table was decorated with a tray full of traditional British biscuits, and a hot teapot was perched on it. A hefty figure was seated in front of the nocturnal treat, humming contentedly while relishing it.
“Gilbert?”
“Oh, hello Miss Y/N! What are you doing up at this hour?”
You smiled, observing his apparent fondness for his cane, which he seemed to carry with him wherever he went.
"I can't fall asleep," you answered. "What about you?”
"I was reading, lost track of time again. I brewed a spot of Chamomile, fancy a cup yourself?”
Given the state your nightmare had put you in, the prospect of a calming cup of Chamomile tea indeed seemed heavenly.
“Yes, please," you agreed. "I would appreciate that.”
"But of course! Would you mind having a sit? I’ll be right back.”
His warm and courteous manners always uplifted your spirits. Even the way he carried himself was full of grace and poise.
The soft sound of him rummaging through the cupboard reached your ears as he pulled out a vacant mug from the kitchen. Upon his return, he presented you with some of his biscuits with a sincere smile, and you felt like a spoiled child in need of a sweet snack to alleviate the tension. Had he possibly discerned your distress?
“Do you often make tea in the middle of the night?” You asked.
The corners of his lips curled upward even more, his mustache following the movement. “Old habits, I suppose. There's something comforting about it, don't you think?”
“Yeah. It reminds me of home.”
Gilbert sat down beside you, spooning a generous amount of sugar into his cup, now promptly refilled. "Feeling a touch of homesickness, are you?”
"Oh, it's more about the folks I hold dear back there. You know, family, friends.”
Gilbert savored a new sip of his Chamomile, licking his dampened lips and appreciating the warm brew. "And a dashing young chap too, perhaps?”
You held back a chuckle, finding "young chap" to be a rather amusing term for someone of Morpheus' stature.
"Let's say there is, in some sense.”
"Splendid. I won’t pry then.”
You truly pondered where this man originated from with his old-world sophistication.
The warmth of the beverage slid down your throat, finally dispelling that dreadful feeling of suffocation. "I love reading, too. It's unfortunate that I no longer have enough time to dedicate to it, but I’m passionate about my job."
"Yes, I did catch a few snippets. You work in the fashion industry, don't you?”
"That's correct. I'm a Fashion Designer, so I handle all aspects of the creative process and general promotion.”
Gilbert cast his gaze downwards, seemingly deep in contemplation. "Creative, that's marvellous. You know, it reminds me of someone I used to know a while back.”
“Really? Someone special?”
"Ah, my dear. He was the very heart of the place I hail from.”
"He’s not anymore?”
Gilbert grew nostalgic. "Oh no, he is. He'd been away for a very long time, you see. Without him, my homeland lost its essence. I left because I wanted to... embark on new experiences, I would say.”
You had a multitude of questions, but given your limited familiarity with the man, you didn't want to overstep any boundaries. You hypothesized that he originated from a quaint English town, and the person he spoke so warmly about was possibly a revered clergyman or a commoner cherished by many.
"Do you plan on returning?" You asked.
"Eventually, yes. I never intended to leave my place, I simply... needed to explore… more of this world.”
His explanation was notably vague, giving you the sense that he was carefully choosing his words to sidestep other topics he seemed less eager to discuss.
But ultimately, that was just a part of his charm.
"I understand. Thank you for sharing, Gilbert.”
"A pleasure, Miss Y/N.”
As you both continued to enjoy the Chamomile and savor the tasty biscuits he had provided, a momentary silence fell between you. Oddly enough, it didn't feel awkward or uncomfortable; instead, it nurtured a feeling of closeness. His presence was soothing, organic, and serene. You could faintly detect an aroma of damp moss and lush greenery emanating from him, along with hints of apples, sea ozone, musk and sandalwood.
Even though you were indoors, your mind was conjuring up the image of a lush green oasis. Unknown to you, the dreadful thoughts of your nightmare had entirely faded from your consciousness.
That was, until he posed the subsequent question, interrupting your mental imagery.
"You said you can’t fall asleep. Is something troubling you, my dear?”
Setting your mug aside, you aligned your back more straight against your chair. "I woke up from a nightmare earlier. It was quite unsettling.”
"Oh dear," he expressed. “Are you all right?”
"To be honest, I’m a little worried about something. But I can’t tell if my feelings are warranted, or if I'm just making everything more complex than it needs to be.”
Gilbert lapsed into a thoughtful silence again, absentmindedly twirling the spoon in his tea.
"Dreams can reveal a fair bit about your-" he cleared his throat. "-our own selves. Our worries, longings, even our darkest truths. They can be quite revealing, in their own cryptic manner.”
For some reason, he seemed to possess knowledge far beyond what any typical human being should. But considering the significant time he spent engrossed in books, his extensive cultural understanding was not surprising to you.
"It's weird, isn't it? Dreams can manifest the most beautiful visions one could ever see, yet sometimes, they can be so frightful that they make you want to never fall asleep again.”
He guffawed. "I've seen my fair share of unusual dreams. Each one is a journey, wouldn't you agree?”
You, more than anyone else, could attest to the spectacular travels one could undertake through their dreams.
But those very dreams you loved deeply, those realms and magical constructs, if not the Dreaming as a whole, were seemingly endangered by a force equally formidable.
As unsettling as the nightmare had been, you couldn't let it deter you from delving into your subconscious mind.
“I do, actually. It’s a little tough, though.”
"Isn't it just? This world's a grand old place, my dear. Just as many marvels to be found as there are true horrors to behold.”
You bobbed your head in agreement, gazing at the remnants of your Chamomile. "You're so right Gilbert. I wish I could remove a thing or two from my memory.”
"I daresay. But isn't that also part of what makes you... well, human?”
His point held weight, considering the lessons you had acquired over the years. All those hardships, all the adversities you had to surmount. Even Morpheus confined to that cage, isolated, insulted, and forgotten. Had you not witnessed all that, you would have entirely overlooked his existence, and inevitably lost the opportunity to understand what it meant to love and be loved by him.
Every fear, all the concerns, all the wonderings and questions. They all contributed to your growth and shaped who you wanted to become.
"Thanks, Gilbert," you voiced softly, "I really like talking to you.”
"Absolute pleasure, Y/N. Whenever you fancy a chat, I'm here to lend an ear.”
Having finished the Chamomile and nibbled the last crumb of your biscuits, you gathered the empty mugs and plates onto the tray. Gilbert generously offered his help, which you politely declined, allowing him to retreat to his attic for some rest (or to indulge in more reading).
You let the water run at the bare minimum, washing the mugs and plates with utmost care. You returned everything to its proper place, gently closing the cupboard's door to preserve the quiet. Gilbert's footsteps were soft and deliberate, until the surroundings became so silent that you couldn't hear a fly.
It was still early, and you didn't know how long Morpheus would take to conduct his investigation. All you could wish for was that no hindrances had appeared in his way.
As you slid back under the covers and settled onto the mattress, you grabbed your phone and plugged in your earbuds. You swiped across the screen, rifling through your saved playlists until you found the specific track you were looking for.
𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒙𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝑴𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒄 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑨𝒏𝒙𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒚 𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒇
You used to play these melodies when contending with your chronic insomnia, and even if they weren't particularly helpful at the time, you still cherished the calming sounds they produced. And so, you pressed the play button, adjusting the volume to a moderate level, getting yourself comfortable and closing your eyes.
The soft music echoed in your ears like liquid gold. You felt weightless and cleansed, as if the bed had vanished beneath you. When sleep claimed you once more, you felt comforted and at peace, journeying through a variety of pleasant dreams.
The fact that you had no pressing obligations the following day was a stroke of good luck, for when morning arrived, you were still blissfully asleep in your bed. The Dreaming appeared to be just as it always was, granting you unrestricted exploration. You took a serene stroll in the most beautiful meadow you had ever seen, crossed a forest bathed in hues of pinks and reds, and even engaged in conversation with a chatty deer you encountered along the way. At times, the things appearing around you looked odd and somewhat nonsensical, but it didn't particularly bother you.
And then, you were enveloped in a sea of stars, to the extent that you found yourself traversing an actual galaxy. Even though you were walking, you couldn't see any physical ground under your feet.
You weren't sure of your destination, but the energy pulsating through the paradisiacal landscape motivated you to continue, and you simply couldn't resist the call. The dress you wore, so lengthy that it trailed behind you like a royal gown, was imbued with the brilliance of stars and the swirling cosmos.
All that stunning beauty made your thoughts drift towards Morpheus, and you realized how much you longed to see him again.
Distant voices began to form and resonate from the far end of the nebula, where a powerful blue light flashed and expanded. You quickened your pace, walking briskly, until the light became almost blinding, compelling you to raise your hands in front of your face.
And it was fortunate that you did, because a few moments later, you collided with something hard and icy, as solid as marble.
The galactic spectacle had completely dissolved, replaced by a radiant blue fog that began to thin out and dissipate. The pillar in front of you obstructed your view, but it didn't take long for you to recognize the castle's throne room.
How were you able to locate that place again without Morpheus’ explicit invitation?
And then, you recalled his earlier words, assuring you that you were always welcome in his castle. Could it be that this had inherently given you unlimited access to it?
“Do you have any idea what his life is like in the Waking World?”
A woman was speaking, but you couldn't identify her.
“Humans cannot live in dreams.”
Morpheus.
“As long as he stayed there, the child had no life. Nor the chance for one.”
Sensing that you were amidst something significant, you moved your body slightly to the side to survey the unfolding scene. Morpheus, as handsome and majestic as ever, stood a few steps above Lucienne and another figure, a well-defined woman who was clearly far from human. Her skin was dark, akin to a desaturated purple, adorned with fuchsia streaks that pulsed like faint lightning. Her entire body seemed alive, displaying a kaleidoscopic effect that resembled liquid shadows.
“The boy is being abused,” the creature stated. “He’s suffering.”
“You abused that suffering,” Morpheus counteracted. “To build a Dreaming you could rule.”
And then it struck you, the realization that the non-human figure was one of the Dreams Morpheus had been trying to find. Or, to be more precise, one of his Nightmares.
“I had no wish to rule.”
She didn't seem terrifying to you. Even her appearance, while peculiar and potentially intimidating, was actually quite enchanting to look at.
Unlike the Corinthian, which was ironic considering that he bore more resemblance to a man than anything else.
“I merely wish to be a Dream and not a Nightmare. To inspire rather than to freighten.”
The nightmare was seething with anger, filled with pain and grudge against her master.
Lucienne was attentively listening, without uttering a word.
“The choice is not yours to make,” Morpheus responded, calm and unyielding. “We do not choose to be created. Nor do we choose how we are made.”
His statement stirred thoughts in your head. Did he ever contemplate why he came into this universe, the purpose of his birth, his initial creation? Did he ever consider being someone else, something else, instead of perpetually fulfilling his role as the King of the Dreaming?
“That is true,” affirmed the Nightmare with a smirk. “But we can change.”
“No. We are, each of us, born with responsibilities. Even I am not free to choose to be other than I am. Nor is anyone.”
If anything, this only provided an answer to your inner query. Ever since the day you met him, you hadn't considered that his duties and what he embodied could be as heavy as a boulder to him. You knew he had to make exceedingly difficult, if not impossible, decisions. But what if, deep down, he wished to cast aside his metaphorical crown and hand over his realm to another?
“If that were true, why did all the other Dreams and Nightmares choose to leave this place when you had gone away?”
“Not all of us chose to leave, and nearly all have returned,” Lucienne finally interjected.
The creature turned to look at the librarian. “Do you think they came back out of love?” Then, once again, she redirected her focus to her creator. “Or because they were afraid of what you would do to them if they did not?”
You were cognizant of Morpheus' capacity for aloofness and command, and he had even admitted his past errors to you. But as inflexible as he could be, was it truly so erroneous to aim for maintaining proper order within his realm, if it also meant safeguarding the Waking World and its denizens?
“Because I am not afraid.”
You could sense the change in the atmosphere, which had abruptly become chilly and foreboding. Morpheus pivoted completely, fixing the Nightmare with a defiant glare. “You should be.”
You leaned forward just a bit more, taking care to remain unnoticed by any of them. It's quite humorous how you continually landed yourself in undesirable circumstances, which obliged you to stay concealed and listen in on others.
“A Nightmare’s purpose is to reveal a dreamer’s fears, that they may face them.”
You might have been wrong, but even from where you were, you noticed a reddish tint in his eyes. He was in pain.
And also, he was enraged.
His shadow started to shift, advancing along the stairs and extending out, stretching right towards where the Nightmare was positioned.
“Perhaps a few thousand years in the darkness will reveal your fears.”
The shadow made contact with her feet, and the moment it did, she began to pulverize and disappear. Her legs slimmed down, disintegrating like ash, and the rest of her body followed the same fate.
She was scared, but at the same time, she held his stare with bravery and pride.
And you could see that she was teetering on the edge of tears, burdened by the spectrum of missed opportunities.
“Better that than to make others afraid,” she said at the very end. “Even a Nightmare can dream, my lord.”
With widened eyes and a dropped jaw, you watched in sheer disbelief as the creature dissolved right before your sight. Morpheus stood as an image of defeat, quietly enduring the loss of one of his own creations.
“Even a Nightmare can dream.”
In your trance-like state, the only thought that surfaced was, blimey.
Even Lucienne was clearly distraught. How had things managed to escalate to this extent? Why did events have to take that horrific twist, landing Morpheus in such a tough spot? Why all the anguish, the torment, the catastrophe?
Only one name came to mind; Roderick freaking Burgess. What would the scenario be if Morpheus was never captured? If the Dreaming was never deserted, and if his subjects never abandoned their duties?
“You feel her punishment was unjust?”
The way Morpheus immediately sought Lucienne's approval with an expression akin to witnessing his raven’s murder once again (oh, you didn't even want to remember that, much less think about anything happening to Matthew) left you instantly heartbroken.
Lucienne contemplated her reply, then she freed her hands from their entwined position behind her back. “I used to be something else. Before you made me your librarian. We all chance, sir. Even you, perhaps. One day.”
Oh no.
His response was unsurprising. Even though his voice echoed gentleness and respect, you could perceive the bitterness lacing each word he spoke following that.
“Lucienne, I realize that in my absence, you were compelled to make decisions in my stead, and I am grateful to you.”
You sensed that a 'but' was forthcoming.
“But I am back now.” There it was. “You may return to the library.”
Ouch.
That was a lot to take in all at once, and given your empathetic nature, you rapidly absorbed the torrent of emotions floating in the atmosphere. You observed the sorrow in Lucienne's eyes, the despair of feeling obsolete to her King. She retreated with measured steps, leaving Morpheus standing rigid on the staircase.
The regret was unmistakable. His frequent blinking, the strain in his jaw, his hands curling into tight fists.
You let out a sigh, bumping your forehead against the column. If only you could do something, anything, to magically erase all that pain from their hearts. If only-
"I am sorry," he said unexpectedly. "I did not wish for you to witness that.”
Oh. Oh. Of course he was talking to you. You were in the Dreaming, right in the center of his dwelling. It was only to be expected that he would be aware of your presence in his castle, considering you were practically a whisker's breadth away.
With caution, you stepped out of your hiding spot, your gown trailing behind as you moved towards the King of Dreams. The fabric maintained its shimmer, harmoniously matching the cosmic ceiling overhead and the inner lining of his coat.
"I'm the one who should apologize," you declared. "I just wanted to see you, I didn't expect to end up here.”
The instant his eyes met yours, a flicker of astonishment and surprise colored his face. He watched you as if spellbound, descending the staircase to meet you midway. When you halted, merely inches from his face, you gave him one of those smiles he cherished the most.
You were clueless about the depth of his love for you in that moment, of how you looked every bit a queen, his queen, gracefully moving in your natural surroundings.
Your dream dresses were a mirror of your inner self, each more beautiful than the last.
"Wrong place at the wrong time, as we humans like to say," you continued. "Did you know I was here all along?”
“You thought I did not?”
“Touché.”
He lowered his tear-brimmed gaze, the tips of his cool fingers tentatively grazing yours."Are you not scared of me?”
It was difficult to fathom that he was still unsure, questioning the genuineness of your feelings for him. But upon reflection, you couldn't truly fault him.
You shook your head. "My love, I could never be afraid of you. You should know that by now.”
His hands were always so tender, so delicate, and yet so sturdy. His hands rested around your waist, only to glide upwards and adhere to your skin, the dress granting him an ample view of your back. He held you close against his chest, and you melted in his embrace.
“Do you not think Lucienne is correct? About change, about me?”
"Morpheus, I wouldn't want to change a thing about you. I think this entire matter should be handled with care, from all perspectives.”
He displayed a pouting expression, gently rubbing his forehead against yours. “I have my duties.”
“I know.”
And these obligations were eating him up from the inside. Encaged in a glass cell for a century, he neglected his realm and failed to guard the very humanity that triggered the destructionn of the Dreaming to start with. However, upon witnessing the magnitude of his role, you began to doubt whether his sacrifice was worth it. Ruling over the dream domain and protecting the mortal world shouldn't provoke such deep anguish. It was consuming him, devouring his essence.
"Don't be too harsh on Lucienne, though," you advised. "She's the most dedicated being I have ever met, but I’m sure you are aware of that.”
"I am.”
It was quite a shame that she had no clue of the magnitude of his high regard for her.
"You see, when you were still confined to that cage, I had a dream. It was one of my first experiences in this realm, and somehow, I found myself here. In this very same room.”
He listened quietly, his hands softly gliding down to your lower back.
"I was lost. Everything was in ruins, devoid of life. But Lucienne was here, aimlessly roaming the castle, and she found me. The sight of a human standing in the midst of your throne room took her by surprise, after such a long time.”
The way she sustained and persevered for over a century remained a mystery. She deserved a dedicated monument.
"She was so alone, Morpheus. She was waiting for you to return.”
None of his words were intended to diminish her. Lucienne held significant value to Morpheus, not only as a trustworthy librarian but also as a competent collaborator within his domain. He only adopted a defensive stance when the topic of change surfaced, a concept he struggled to grasp given the nature of his own existence.
"And, about the Nightmare you punished...”
“Gault.”
The fact that he still wished for her name to be acknowledged despite his conduct, did not elude your notice.
"I don’t know what happened, and if she did wrong you, it's in your rights to restore the original state of things. But... she appeared honest about her feelings, about her wish to become a Dream. Is there truly nothing you can do about it?”
For an instant, you were apprehensive that he might reproach you merely for daring to discuss matters you didn't completely understand.
But his eyes held nothing but tenderness for you. "Y/N, she was made to be a Nightmare. In order to make her into a Dream, she would need to be undone and recreated.”
"But isn't that a part of any creative process? Altering things that already exist, but no longer fulfill their original purpose?”
“It is different.”
Your smile broadened as you caressed his cheek. "I know that I can't compare what you do with my work in the Waking World. Your subjects have a function that accompanies humans through their personal journeys. But, consider this: everything we make, whether it be clothes, art, music, movies, or novels, it all influences us in one way or another.”
He furrowed his brows, mulling over your words and attempting to decipher the implications of your statement.
"Sometimes, an artist might choose to redraw an old piece to make it better. A writer might opt to remake an entire chapter if it doesn't align with their envisioned perfection A composer could discard a fresh song and reconstruct it from scratch just for that note they didn’t get right. An entire dress can be taken apart, mended, and redesigned.”
Your focus moved to the location where Gault had once been. You could still observe traces of smoke and ash spiraling around the room.
"Gault wasn’t a mistake, Morpheus. She just wanted to be understood, regardless of how wrong that might be.”
He stayed silent, tracing your line of sight as he swallowed.
"Ah, but I'm only human. So, what could I possibly know, right?”
And then, he flashed a small grin. It was almost unnoticeable, barely distinguishable, but just clear enough for you to catch it.
“No, you are observant. Your words are truly valuable.”
You weren't expecting him to affirm your truth, nor to retract the punishment imposed on Gault and reinstate her to her rightful place. But that was acceptable. Because you realized that Morpheus was not simply disregarding your viewpoints.
“You are valuable, too.”
You ran your nails along the collar of his coat, savoring the clear contact, the softness of the material.
"I need you to understand that you're not alone in this. You have Lucienne, Matthew. Even Able and Cain, despite the latter's rough character. And naturally, you have me.”
For him, it was tough to believe that a genuine support system existed behind him. Given all the trials he had to withstand, the burdens he shouldered away from others, and the solitary grief he faced after the loss of his son.
Even now, distancing himself from Lucienne and dispatching his creation into the darkest void, were not measures he felt particularly prideful or content about.
He smiled. "Having you by my side is more than I could ever hope for or deserve, my love.”
You craved him as much as you needed the blood flowing in your veins. You longed for the sound of his voice, so low, smooth, and resonant, his words overflowing with love and adoration for you.
He kissed you, slowly yet assertively, before pulling away and letting you go. But now that he had a moment of tranquility with you, as the day on the other side had just commenced, he wanted you to savor every last minute in the Dreaming, before you ventured back to your world and he proceeded with his investigations.
The final moments in the Dreaming had been unforgettable, with Morpheus guiding you through parts of the castle you hadn't yet explored. But before you fully succumbed to the pre-awakening haze, you chose to contradict your prior decision and confessed that the Corinthian was, in fact, in Cape Kennedy.
The realization that his nightmare had encountered you for a second time, unbeknownst to him and with all the potential dangers it could entail, inevitably sent Morpheus’ mood spiraling downwards all over again. For a moment, you feared that he might harbor resentment towards you for not summoning him at that time. However, when you explained how cunning the Corinthian had been by choosing to meet you in a public place filled with mortals, the Endless pronounced that you had acted prudently.
Morpheus also confirmed that the Corinthian had evidently been drawn by the Vortex herself. That also signified that, should he locate her, things could potentially escalate to an irreversible point for all of you. Therefore, he tried to convince you to head back home, with the aim of keeping you shielded from both Rose's power and the Nightmare's grasp.
Regrettably, you had to reject his suggestion, as your work was far too important for you to merely abandon it. Morpheus attempted to argue, but eventually, he let the topic rest. He made a solemn promise to utilize all his resources and abilities to ensure your safety, insisting that you alert him immediately should anything unusual, or even remotely dangerous, occur in your presence.
Admittedly, having Morpheus concerned for you amidst all that he was grappling with did make you feel quite guilty. Nevertheless, there was no way you could leave Andrew in the middle of the project without a valid excuse. Morpheus understood the amount of effort you had invested in establishing your current career, and the last thing he wanted was for you to lose all that you had achieved.
By the time you woke up, everyone else was already bustling about town attending to their own affairs. The only exception was Lyta who, conversely, was strangely sick and confined to her room, not making an appearance even once.
You seized that day off as a chance to recuperate, with the lingering effects of jet lag still draining you, and the remnants of your tumultuous night further exhausting you. It was approximately lunch time when you noticed Rose crossing the threshold, her fatigued, baffled expression indicating that something was drastically amiss.
"Rose?”
"Oh, Y/N, hi," she said in a distracted manner. "Is Lyta still in her room?”
"I believe so, she was feeling under the weather earlier when I knocked. But, on that note, are you okay?”
Rose shook her head, offering a feeble smile. "I don’t even know, to be honest.”
You could only speculate that what kept her outdoors that morning was linked to her brother Jed. Clearly, things didn't pan out as she had hoped.
"Come on. let's talk," you encouraged her, softly draping your arm around her shoulders and ushering her upstairs.
"Oh, there's no need to, I mean-”
"Yes, Rose. There is," you corrected. "There's something I need to share with you.”
You were aware that Morpheus would have preferred to keep you as distant as possible from everything the girl embodied, but you couldn't just ignore her when she looked so afflicted.
And despite her apparent eagerness to retreat to her room, she consented, trailing behind you and stepping into your chamber without any protest.
You let her settle on your bed, which was still partly unkempt, and you took a seat next to her. "Firstly, tell me what happened."
You noticed her hesitation, stumbling over her words. "Well, I actually found Jed. I went there because I wanted to speak to his foster parents, to see him, and possibly bring him home with me.”
"Let me guess, they didn't permit you to.”
She sighed. "Even worse.”
“Worse?”
"Y/N, I... I went there and the police were swarming all around the house. I found out that the couple is dead, and Jed is nowhere to be found.”
Out of all the things you thought she might say, that was definitely not one of them.
“Wait, what?!”
"I know, it's insane!”
"But, do they know how they died? Was it an accident? Were they killed in their own home?”
How could she be so close to reuniting with her brother after so many years, only to have him slip even further away?
Right then and there, your intuition flared up more intensely than before. Something was undeniably wrong. What were the odds of that happening?
"I have no idea. The police didn't want to disclose any information. I wasn't even allowed near the house.”
You gently placed your hand on her back, moving it up and down in a comforting motion. "I'm so sorry Rose. The silver lining is that he wasn't there, so he's at least unharmed. Right?”
"But now, I don't even know where to start looking.”
What kind of comfort could you give her in a situation like that?
"Y/N, you said there was something you wanted to tell me. But... could you answer a question for me?”
“Of course.”
She pressed her lips together, staring at you with a hint of apprehension. “"Are you real? I mean, you're human, right? I'm not just imagining you.”
You laughed. "I am very much real, I assure you.”
"It's just... you were in my dream. I met you before actually seeing you in real life.”
You nodded. “You did.”
"So... how...?”
You clasped her hand, which felt somewhat cold and trembly. She appeared so fragile and delicate, how could she contain such a potent power capable of not only shattering the Dreaming, but also penetrating its walls and affecting the Waking World?
"Rose, I'm sure you know the answer to that.”
She blinked a few times, permitting you to gently squeeze her hand. “I think so. And you?”
She was testing the waters, probing to see what you might potentially know or be oblivious of.
You couldn't find any valid reason to not tell the truth about it.
“Yes, Rose. I know you are the Vortex.”
For a moment, she appeared flabbergasted, not really anticipating your forthrightness. She stood, pacing back and forth a few times, only to raise her voice in desperation.
"Who are you, really? What's going on?”
Her outburst was more than justifiable. She was separated from brother when she was a teenager, never having the chance to see him ever since. Then, her mother passed away just before she could uncover the true nature residing within her, which could endanger her life, due to the need to eliminate any direct threat against an Endless' realm.
It was unfair, you thought to yourself. She deserved better than what life had dealt her.
"I'm simply Y/N,” you replied. “A human being just like you. Nothing more and nothing less.”
“But how do you know I’m the Vortex?”
Was it even permissible for you to divulge your relationship with Morpheus? Could you be open about your association with his realm?
In the end, you carefully opted to omit the major details.
"I am acquainted with the King of Dreams."
"You know Lord Morpheus?”
“Yes. Very well in fact.”
She returned to the mattress, allowing her body to slump onto it like a sack of potatoes. Her eyes clamped shut, and she took a deep inhalation, only to exhale it out.
"Rose, I wish I could tell you more about why or how you became a Vortex, but not even Morpheus himself has an explanation. All I can say to you is that you need to be careful.”
"All I do is sleep, and all of a sudden I'm in everyone's dream.”
How dreadful it must feel, to intrude upon your friends' subconscious and probe their minds against their will.
"You haven't come across a man with blond hair and dark round sunglasses, have you?”
"No, not that I can recall," she specified. “Why?”
With Matthew keeping a watchful eye on her during the day, you knew that she at least had some form of protection from the Dream Lord. But was that truly sufficient to keep the Nightmare at a safe distance from her?
You couldn't afford to give her one more cause for alarm. She couldn't find out about that creature tailing her, aiming to use her Vortex abilities to annihilate the Dreaming and take complete control over humanity. It was such a hefty load for you alone, understanding how dark and warped the minds of mortals could be and how readily they could be remolded.
For the moment, you wanted her to concentrate solely on her brother, who seemed to be entirely missing, if not kidnapped by someone malevolent for all you knew.
"Let's just hope it never comes to that.”
You blinked a few times, clearing the haze from your brain, as you peered into the distance at what appeared to be a barren wasteland, gloomy and parched. It was dark and cold, reminiscent of a swamp.
What was that place, and why did it evoke a sense of déjà vu?
You glanced around, took a few steps forward, and inhaled the aroma of earth and decaying vegetation. Nothing was there apart from some patches of mud, scattered algae and rocks that either looked shattered or flipped over.
"Yep, I'm afraid so.”
A voice from behind caused you to startle, but when you spun on your feet, nobody was there except for a deer, watching you with a pair of large, glossy black eyes.
"What...?”
"Oh come on. Don't say you don't remember me.”
You were completely disoriented, unable to even recall your own name. But then, as time progressed and the gears in your mind kicked back into action, everything fell back into place.
You knelt down, gently patting the deer's head. "Of course I remember you. I'm sorry, it took me a moment to realize I was dreaming. I must have dozed off on the couch...”
The animal smiled. "Eh, it happens sometimes. No big deal. But I'm glad you're back. Things are really getting messy over here.”
“Messy? What do you mean?”
The deer's expression morphed into one of puzzlement. "Are you serious? Can't you see the state of this place?”
"I do see it," you responded. "Where exactly are we? I know this is the Dreaming, but...”
"Y/N," the deer advanced. "You know where you are.”
That proclamation sent a chill down your spine, and as soon as you looked up, attempting to detect any sign of what the deer was referring to, the surroundings trembled and shook violently. You heard the loud noise of something fracturing, splitting apart. And then you saw it, the same crack from your nightmare, widening and branching out. It continued to broaden, wildly seizing the landscape around you.
The deer was correct, you knew exactly where you were. Merely contemplating it caused your heart to plummet, and your stomach to coil into a painful knot, tugging from every direction.
Without a shadow of a doubt, you were in the Beach Land. Except now, it was just land, bereft of beach, water, and signs of life.
“No… please tell me this isn’t real. Tell me this is another nightmare.”
The deer sighed. "It is a nightmare, in a sense. But I'm afraid this is simply what the Dreaming is starting to look like. All of it.”
You slumped onto the ground, letting your arms hang limply at your sides. "The Vortex did this?”
“I assume so.”
Was your proximity to Rose that late morning in any way accountable for such a significant, vital part of your dream life, to be completely eradicated? Or had she caused such a disruption recently that your nightmare delivered the final blow?
You didn't have the time to figure out an answer, because another earthquake rattled everything again. It was fierce, horrifying, and certainly not something you wanted to see worsen any further.
"You need to leave," the deer told you. "Exit this place before it's too late.”
"But this is a dream, right? Nothing can physically harm me here.”
"That's not the main problem. If the Vortex strengthens, you could be disconnected from this land, if not the Dreaming itself.”
“What??”
Could it really be possible that Rose accidentally set off something so grave? You dismissed the thought; the idea of losing the Dreaming was unbearable. Morpheus. Lucienne. Abel and Cain. Goldie. How could you ever bear to be separated from them all, from the love of your life?
"Go, Y/N. Wake up now. Or else he'll never forgive me.”
He?
“Wait, did you-”
“ሠ𐌀ኡ𐌄 𐌵የ!”
Your eyes flew open, and all you could see was the ceiling of Hal's B&B main hall. No peculiar noises, no tremors of the earth. But you, on the other hand, were profoundly rattled, your heart pounding fiercely in your chest.
And that, wasn't even the full extent of what you were about to confront.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18 (currently reading)
Go to Chapter 19 (coming soon) ->
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